


Day 28 - Hunting Season (28.1)

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Whumptober 2020 [28]
Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: BAMF Dick Grayson, Cannibalism, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Dick Grayson, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Dick finds himself in over his head when he uses himself as bait for a case.No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.Accidents |Hunting Season| Mugged
Series: Whumptober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947217
Comments: 29
Kudos: 116





	Day 28 - Hunting Season (28.1)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: implied/referenced cannibalism
> 
> Disclaimer: don't own DC

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

**Day 1**

Dick wouldn’t remember this very clearly later, but the first place he was deposited was a rusty old cabin. It had two floors, and the wood creaked under him when he was thrown into a room. The curtains on the boarded up window were old and musty – they were decomposing from age, held together by mothballs and spiderwebs.

Dick was bleeding sluggishly from a head wound, and his balance was all over the place. Still, he managed to get himself over to the window and try prying the boards off.

It was no use.

**Day 4**

He couldn’t remember when he’d been taken to the cages, but one morning he woke up to find himself resting on hay, though he remembered, hazily, that he’d gone to sleep on hardwood. A cold draught had been coming in through the cracks in the walls.

There was light entering through the wooden planks. Dick was clearly in a barn of some sort, and his cage was one of many. His vision came and went as he sat up, but this time it was from not being given enough to eat, only what was needed to keep his body somewhat functioning.

It took a while for his eyes to make out the rest of the barn, but once it did, Dick couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.

The entire building had been restructured to hold about twenty-five cages, all like the ones Dick was in. They were about a metre and a half in each direction, and just high enough that Dick had to stoop over if he tried to stand.

Only four of the cages were full.

“Hey!” Dick tried to say, but was immediately overtaken by a coughing fit as his throat tried desperately to function with barely any saliva to wet it. He hacked another cough and yelled, “Hey!”

Everyone had looked over at Dick, but only two of them continued to look.

“Shut up, kid,” the man in the nearest cell said. His clothes were filthy, his full beard a mangled mess.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, heading over to the side nearest him. “Who are you?”

The man exhaled, but he opened his eyes again. “You’ll know soon enough,” he said. "No point making yourself scared before it happens." There was enough pity in his voice for Dick to frown.

If Dick had to guess, then he’d say that being used for bait had gone a little too well. People had been disappearing off the streets of New York for months now, and he’d finally narrowed it down to a few particular street corners.

In every security camera footage that they were able to recover, it showed a white van at every scene where the victims had been last spotted. Finding out even that little nugget of information had been like pulling nails – typical victims were the newly homeless, those cast out and living on the streets with no one to keep tabs on them.

It was only a month or so later, when friends or family inquired, that they were reported to be missing.

**Day 10**

There were three of them remaining now. The tiny twig of a girl who’d been in the cage farthest from Dick was now gone.

Dick had woken to find her cell empty, which was strange, considering that in the week or so he’d been here, he had yet to see the people in charge. Each of their little cells had a hole in the flooring, at the back, and it went down farther than Dick could see – it was clear that this was their intended ‘bathroom’.

The barest of food was provided through a slot, much like an automatic pet feeder. Little kernels of dry food came down at random times, with no discernible pattern that Dick could make out. Water was the same. It came through a little pipe, dripping down with no warning, and only for half a minute.

If you missed it, you were out of luck.

Dick could understand the gaunt looks on the faces of his neighbours. Living like this wasn’t sustainable – they’d only go so long before their bodies would give out, or their minds.

But he was here for a reason, though it wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned.

“Hey,” he murmured to John, his bearded neighbour. “Where’d she go?”

John shifted tired eyes onto Dick. He was the only one of them who spoke – the others had apparently been here before John, and the most they’d do was give Dick warning glances before looking away.

“Hunting,” was all he said, but that one word sent shivers down Dick’s spine.

**Day 15**

The girl never came back, and her cell never got cleaned out, though there were bloody trails through it, from where she'd scratched at the floorboards with her nails.

Dick could feel his body beginning to shut down. He had to act fast, but there was little opportunity.

It had rained the night before, the water seeping in through the holes in the roof. He’d bunkered down in a corner, packing the hay around him in an effort to stop shivering so badly. He’d still woken up completely drenched.

Dick had tried a lot of things with his food and water supply. Following the pipes up to the false ceiling was no use – despite the age of the barn they were in, it was clear that these were maintained properly and designed specifically to keep captives inside.

Dick had valiantly kept the fear at bay, but there was something about the way John and the other two kept looking towards the barn entrance that made him nervous. It had begun the day before. The woman in the cell opposite him, separated by about six metres, was a nervous wreck. Her nails were bitten to the quick, and her fingers had scratched at the feeding slot so much that Dick could see where her hands had begun to bleed.

Something was coming.

**Day 17**

Dick hadn’t meant to fall asleep – he never did, these days. His only two states were dozing with his eyes open, and dozing with his eyes shut. His stomach was constantly growling, but would start up with vengeance every time he attempted to eat.

He was rudely awoken this morning with a bucket of water to the face.

Spluttering, Dick threw his hands up instinctively, trying to shield his face. His eyes snapped open; he hadn’t felt adrenaline coursing through his body in so long that everything felt like it’d been turned to the highest volume.

Two bulky figures, dressed in flannel and jeans and sporting necklaces with oddly shaped teeth around their necks, were standing at the entrance of Dick’s cage. There was a third person a little bit behind them.

The rest of Dick’s fellow prisoners were fast asleep.

“Who are you?” Dick croaked. He stood up shakily. “What do you want?”

One of them raised an eyebrow at him. “Follow us,” was all she said.

They stepped out of the cage. Dick didn’t want to go with them – in this state, he doubted how he’d go in a hand to hand fight, especially when one of them had a shotgun. But he did so anyway, because getting out of this cage was a step forward.

Dick straightened up, stretching his spine a little and revelling in the feeling of being upright properly. The moment he did so, there was a kick to the back of his knees, and they buckled under him immediately.

Dick let out a grunt as his legs folded under him, slamming to the ground. A sack went over his head, and strong arms came to bind his arms behind his back.

“Where’re you taking me?” Dick said, his voice barely coming through with the sack over his head. There were bits of straw stuck in the bag, and he had to spit a little to get them out.

There was absolute silence. Dick could feel his heart beating rapidly, the sensation made worse by how absolutely empty his body felt right now. It was as though his bones were hollow, his stomach concaved. He didn’t know how long it would be until this adrenaline rush ran out, because surely the crash would come soon. His body just wasn’t able to hold out like it normally would.

Dick was shoved along blindly, and he stumbled as his feet caught on things he couldn’t see. He almost fell over when they brought him to climb up something without telling him, and sniggers followed him as someone roughly caught him around the middle.

He was in a car of some sort. Dick was left standing, but he slowly crouched down to stay balanced. His fingers worked to feel what was behind him, and after a minute or so, he deduced that he was probably in a horse trailer.

They drove for about ten minutes before coming to an abrupt stop. Dick was thrown into the side, and he scrambled to get his legs under him before they came around.

His hood was yanked off his head, and Dick squinted at the bright light. He hadn’t seen sunlight like this in over a fortnight.

The trailer door was open, but the longer Dick assessed his surroundings as best as he could, the more the sinking feeling in his gut grew. There were grassy plains all around him, and about a kilometre or two outwards, he could see trees beginning. What were they planning on doing to him here? Surely they wouldn’t go to all the trouble of keeping him and the others just barely alive only to kill them off in the middle of nowhere.

“You,” one of them said, “are here for entertainment.” She said this like it was supposed to mean something.

Dick frowned. “Entertainment?”

He didn’t like where this was going, especially not looking at how these people were decked out. There were two men, and the woman who’d just spoken. They all wore vests atop shirts, tucked into their jeans. One of the men had a long white beard and leathery skin, the sign of working out in the fields for a solid chunk of his life.

“Yep,” the man with the beard said. He hoisted a crossbow onto his shoulder as he spoke. “You, my boy, are going to run. Fast as you can. Go anywhere you like. Climb up them trees if you manage to get that far.”

The other man – younger, but still middle-aged, with similar features to the older man – now nodded. As Dick blinked, all this information settling in his much too slow brain, the man dragged him forward with a vulture-like grip on Dick’s shoulder.

Dick’s head was spinning. He had to make a solid plan while they untied him. Dick pretended to stumble a little, though the movement didn’t have to be exaggerated all that much. He had to have a plan of attack here.

There was no way he was going to make it as fast as he needed to by running, especially not with a crossbow and arrows shooting at him through all this open land.

The moment his hands were freed, Dick acted.

He took the younger man by surprise when he kicked out as hard as he could, landing a solid blow upon his kneecap. There was an audible cracking noise, and the man cried out as he fell clutching his leg.

Dick kicked the shotgun away, knowing there would be no point in him using it at such close quarters. The woman leapt forward then, in that split second, tackling Dick to the ground.

Dick fell in an ungraceful heap beneath her, the wind knocked out of him. There was the sound of something shifting through the air, and only a millisecond later, he understood it to be the crossbow.

Dick let out a cry of pain as the crossbow bolt slammed into his calf, curling forward instinctively in an attempt to lessen the pain and make himself a smaller target. The woman holding him down didn’t let him. She pinned his shoulders to the floor of the trailer, one knee coming to rest most of her weight in the centre of Dick’s torso.

“Nice try,” she hissed. “But there’s a reason we kept you half starved. All that you’re good for now is a good chase.”

“Naw, honey,” the old man said with a leering look. “Look at that muscle on him. He’ll make us a fine few dinners. I’m tempted to carve in right now.”

The woman snorted. “He’s too lean for anything good,” she said. To Dick, she added, “I’m sick of you and your generation, with all your health crazes.”

And with that, she stood up, yanking Dick upwards by the shirt. He was still in the clothes he’d worn when he’d stood on that street corner as bait, but by now, they were absolutely filthy. Dick didn’t know how she could stand to be around the stench he must be emitting.

Dick’s mind had somewhat frozen at the thought of being captured by _cannibals_. Of _course_ it was cannibals, he thought distantly. That was just the icing on top of this already dreadful month. It also explained why they'd never been able to find any of the bodies.

The old man stepped forward then, and crouched down to examine Dick’s leg. Dick didn’t normally get queasy easily, but the sensation of the bolt shifting through his flesh when he moved, and the puddle of blood that was leaking out of the wound, was enough to make his stomach turn just a little.

The old man flicked the bolt, and a yell was forced out of Dick’s throat as the pain reverberated throughout him. He was gasping in short bursts when he saw hands grasping the bolt.

“Hey, no, what’re you doing,” Dick tried to say, the words coming out breathy as the minute movement of it in his flesh made black spots cloud his vision. “No—stop, plea—”

His words were broken by a scream as the bolt was _yanked_ out of his leg.

Dick blacked out, but only for a moment. When he was conscious once more, he opened his eyes to find a crude bandage wrapped around his leg, over his pants. It was already soaked with blood.

The trio were now eating sandwiches. Despite everything, Dick’s stomach rumbled at the smell of meat.

“Good, you’re awake,” one of them said conversationally. “You have until we finish eating to run. And then we’ll come.”

Dick stared at them. It was as though they didn’t even expect him to fight them – but they were right. He wasn’t going to attempt to take them again, not directly like that. He’d blown his chance.

Dick staggered to his feet, and then _ran_.

He knew he was fast, but even the fastest of athletes couldn’t run very well when one of their legs had a giant hole in it, steadily leaking blood. Dick’s vision was coming and going, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He had to make it to the line of trees. That was the only way he was going to have any chance of survival.

The first bullet sounded when Dick was only a few metres away; relief shot through him at the thought of actually reaching the tree line. Dick didn’t glance around, knowing he would lose precious time if he did so.

They wouldn’t shoot Dick’s body right now, Dick knew. They wanted sport. Entertainment, they’d called him. They _wanted_ him to reach the trees, and to try and hide and escape, because that was what they liked to do for _fun_. And they wanted his flesh.

For the first time, Dick wondered what had been in those sandwiches.

It was winter now, and half the trees offered no coverage within their branches. Dick had to find someplace good to bunker down, and try to take these maniacs out one by one.

His vision went white when he tried to climb up the first tree, but he shook his head until he saw stars and kept going. Dick’s breath was coming in harsh pants now. He hadn’t exercised in much too long, unable to even stretch properly in the confines of his cell.

He’d only just gotten settled in the first set of branches that were able to hold his weight when the woman came by. In her hands was a shotgun, and Dick could see the glint of a knife at her side.

Dick couldn’t jump her right now, though – he didn’t know yet where the others were.

He strained his ears, trying to listen for the faintest of crackles. They weren’t being particularly subtle about their whereabouts – these people didn’t care if Dick figured out where they were and heard them coming. They thrived off of that fear.

The woman was going to move out of range soon, and Dick couldn’t wait any longer.

He dropped down from his position in the tree and fell atop the woman. Dick’s knees dug into her shoulder blades when he dropped, one hand coming around to clamp her jaw shut. Fingers at the right nerve points knocked her out immediately.

There was another whistle through the air, and Dick flipped around and dropped to the ground, trying to get out of the way of the projectile. It slammed into the trunk of a tree behind him, and Dick was scrambling to his feet.

The jump had taken a lot out of him – he could see the trails of blood where he’d bled through the rough bandaging. The tree branch had streaks of blood on it.

Dick didn’t know how long he was going to last, but he couldn’t die like this. He _refused_ to become someone’s burger patty.

Eerie laughter sounded behind him. Dick turned his head just in time to see him being cornered like an animal, a crossbow on one side and a shotgun on the other.

Dick didn’t pause to think his actions through.

The knife strapped to the woman’s side was in his fingers before he could even process it, and then it was flying straight to the younger man. It embedded itself into the man’s lower torso, someplace where it’d _hurt_ , but he probably wouldn’t die.

Dick was rolling the moment he’d thrown the knife, knowing he had to move or else he’d be riddled with more bolts.

He was proven right when the space he’d been occupying just a moment ago – right next to the woman – was filled by a loud _thunk_ as the crossbow bolt slammed into it.

The man, meanwhile, had slid to the ground, and was frantically trying to breathe through the pain of being stabbed. Dick ran for him. That firearm was his only option now.

He weaved as he ran, partly for tactical reasons but largely also because he was only barely holding onto consciousness. The young man had the shotgun in his hands now, but his grip was trembling like crazy.

Dick was distantly amazed at that – he’d assumed that these people would be used to having injuries, with the sport they hunted. Surely people fought back. But from his reaction, it would seem like any other person with a knife sticking out of their torso.

Dick kicked the shotgun out of the man’s hand and flung himself to the side just in time to see a bolt fly through the air, almost indiscernible to the naked eye, and land in the younger man’s chest.

Dick could hear the old man’s sharp intake of breath, but he had no time to think about the fact that he’d just witnessed this person die because of him, because he’d moved out of the way in order to save himself. He couldn’t think about that and still be able to act, not with how his vision was coming and going.

The adrenaline was beginning to leave his body, the blood loss and pain too great.

“Give it up,” Dick called. “You just… you just _killed_ one of your own. Doesn’t that _mean_ anything to you?”

“You think he’s the only son I ever lost?” he heard in response, from the one remaining person in this group.

He reloaded his crossbow as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him. Dick supposed it may have been.

Dick aimed for the old man’s calf, and shot, just as the man did the same. Dick ducked behind a tree and watched the bolt go wide. He didn’t give the old man any more time than that to reload, poking his head out to the side to see if his bullet had landed.

The old man had evidently dodged the bullet, but Dick wasn’t using a crossbow. The time it took for him to reload was much, much less. He shot again, and this time it landed.

Dick hobbled over as fast as he could, and kicked the crossbow out of the man’s hand. He went to do the same nerve pinch to his neck, and narrowly avoided being bitten. With a yelp that he wished he’d been able to contain, just to avoid that satisfied look on the old man’s weathered face, Dick kneed him in the face and watched him keel over.

And _then_ came the nerve pinch.

Dick wanted nothing more than to lie there and give in to unconsciousness, but he couldn’t wait around for the two of them to wake. He had to get to the van, try and call for help, or at least drive somewhere less remote.

Dick stripped the two bodies of their weapons, snapping the mechanisms that allowed the shotgun and the crossbow to function before dropping them in a heap on the ground. He grabbed the three knives they had between them and shoved them into his pockets, leaving one in his hand.

And then came the long, excruciating trek to the van.

It was so much longer this way. Dick wanted to run to it, feeling much too exposed in the openness of the land.

He had a number of trackers scattered all over his body. The agreement was that there'd be a soft check-in time at some point in the first few days, and then he’d be given a week, but it had been well past that now. Dick hadn’t let himself hope. He knew that the ones in his clothes had been systematically removed or broken. There was another that was embedded in his skin, at the crook of his elbow, but Dick had assumed it’d given out as well.

There was no reason to think otherwise.

He glanced at the knife in his hand, and wondered if he had the mental capacity remaining to dig it out of himself and try to activate it.

But first, he had to get somewhere safe. He couldn’t help glancing behind him at every turn, the fear at the thought of them coming back with renewed vengeance making his heart stutter every time the wind shifted through the long grass.

Dick hotwired the engine, and started driving.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading =D Sequel coming tomorrow!!!


End file.
